


Don't Say Hello

by raiining



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Feels, M/M, No Plot, Post-Episode: s01e11 The Magical Place, feels without plot, so many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 14:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiining/pseuds/raiining
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton dates guys.  It's not that he doesn't like men, it's that he doesn't like <i>Phil</i>.</p>
<p>Lovely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Say Hello

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Ralkana who not only corrected my TERRIBLE tenses, but also helped me finish the fic. THANK YOU GORGEOUS!!!

Clint is sporting date hair.

"Are you at least taking her out somewhere special, Barton?" Phil asks. He's pleased to hear his voice sounds amused.

"You mean to apologize for the fact that it's a date with me?" Clint replies with a grin. He rubs the back of his neck ruefully, looking far too perfect for words. His white shirt is just visible beneath the black leather jacket – it's enough to see that it has buttons and has recently been ironed. His jeans are clean, if not new, and his combat boots are completely laced, for once. Phil feels a pinch in his chest just looking at him, a combination of longing and thwarted desire. Phil has long since accepted the fact that Clint is straighter than straight, which somewhat helps him survive the thought of Clint dating someone else. 

"Yeah, well, we're going to Cara D's," Clint says. "It's not fancy, but then I wouldn't know what to do if it was." 

Phil smiles. Cara D's is the nicest restaurant in town, which isn't saying much. 

"That's the price of being assigned to Pegasus," Phil tells him, "and therefore the middle of nowhere. I'm sure you'll do fine if push comes to shove."

"I never can remember which fork to use first," Clint says with a laugh. He sobers quickly. "It's not, ah, it's not with a woman, though."

Phil blinks. "Excuse me?"

"My date," Clint explains, blushing slightly. "It's not with a woman. His name is Mark."

Phil knows he should say something. Clint is looking at him, watching for his reaction and trying desperately to act like he doesn't care. That means it's important to him. Phil licks his lips. They're dry. "I, uh, well," he clears his throat. "I hope you have a good time, then."

Clint smiles, a bashful little grin. "Thanks."

"Right," Phil says, and nods mechanically. "Have a good night."

"I will. I mean, I'll try. I mean, we'll see, I guess. Uh. I'll catch you later, Phil."

Phil lifts a hand in acknowledgement and turns away. There's a stone around his neck, lodged somewhere in his heart, and it hurts to carry that weight all the way back to his quarters. When he finally does get away from prying eyes – and cameras – he sinks down onto his bed.

_Well_ , Phil thinks. There isn't much to say.

He's been carrying this infatuation around for a while now – for years, if he's being truthful. He's never expected it to go anywhere. Not honestly. He's considered, sometimes, late at night, what it would be like if it did. Phil has imagined those hands on him, those eyes. Clint's gaze sees everything and Phil can picture what it would be like, to have the full force of that regard centred on him. Not half-stolen glimpses, not a voice over the comm – but to be, one hundred percent, the focus of that amazing attention.

He's dizzy just thinking about it, but he knows it would never happen. Phil recognizes his own appeal, and understands it. He isn't bad looking and he isn't unintelligent, but he _is_ gay – and Clint's not. 

Or, so he'd thought.

Phil sits on his bed and lets the truth swamp him. Clint is going on a date with a man. He's interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with a member of the same gender. He's bisexual, or at least bicurious. 

And he didn't come to Phil with questions or concerns. Phil, who's open about his sexuality and dates exlusively men. Phil, who has been his superior officer and then his friend, for going on six years now. Phil, who has been nursing a crush on him for the past four and a half years. 

Minimum.

Phil sighs and lets his head fall into his hands. Clint doesn't want him. Clint will _never_ want him. Phil is his friend and only his friend, and no matter what else happens or changes in their lives, none of Phil's richly detailed fantasies will ever come true. 

He swallows.

It's not as if he hasn't known. Clint's always been out of his league. Clint dates people his own age or younger. Clint dates people who are beautiful. Even if he's exploring his sexuality now, he's not suddenly going to want Phil. Mark is probably gorgeous, and built, and a championship football player or something. Mark is everything Phil is never going to be.

And that's... okay. That's okay. Phil exhales and lifts his head. He's been nursing his crush on Clint for too long, anyway. Jasper's right in that it's been holding him back. He hasn't dated, hasn't really lived, for years now. He's always blamed the job, and not without reason, but the truth isn't hard to see.

Phil's been waiting to see if he had a chance.

He doesn't.

It's time to move on.

He squares his jaw and stands. He can do this. He's going to finish this babysitting gig for Nick, and then he's going to put in a request for a transfer. He'll ask to be assigned somewhere warm, just for a few weeks to get his head together, and then he'll go back to doing what he does best – being Phil Coulson of S.H.I.E.L.D., the best senior agent in the organization, and Nick Fury's one good eye. It's been fun being Barton's handler, watching the man Nick has recommended for the Avengers Initiative come into his own, but it's time for something new. He's been toying with the idea of a smaller team, no superpowers, that could investigate the cases S.H.I.E.L.D. tends to ignore. He's got the paperwork ready and has half-heartedly started to look for personnel. 

He'll mention it to Nick in the morning. For now, he has a shift to complete. The Tesseract has been acting funny lately. He needs to get on that.

 

*

 

After he gets back from Tahiti, Phil sees Barton only once. The other man looks pale, like he hasn't been sleeping, and there are dark circles under his eyes. Phil's concerned, because Nick has assured him that Barton is fine and is recovering about as well as can be expected, under the circumstances.

It seemes that 'as well as can be expected' means something different for the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. than it does for most people .

"How are you feeling, Clint?" Phil asks. No matter what else he might have wanted, Clint is first and foremost his friend. Phil doesn't want to lose that.

"Me?" Clint asks, laughing harshly. " _I'm_ not the one who got stabbed in the back. I'm fucking fine."

"You look it," Phil tells him, unable to resist a smile. No matter how terrible Clint appears, just seeing him has brightened Phil's day. Damn. He's still got it bad.

Clint cracks the very smallest of grins. "Oh yeah, don't I know it. They're beating down my door to catch a glimpse of me. I can't keep them out."

"I'm sure they are. I bet that doesn't make Mark very happy."

"Who?" 

Phil mentally smacks himself upside the head. "I, uh, I remember that you had a date, the night before everything went to hell at Pegasus." 

"Oh, right," Clint says, and glances away. "That, uh, yeah. That went okay."

"Great," Phil says, pasting a smile on his face. He feels like he's given himself away. "How's life at Stark Tower? I can lend you a taser if you like."

Clint smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "It's fine. It's..." he sighs. "Look, Phil. You've got a new team assigned to you, right?"

Phil swallows, a sinking sensation in his chest. "Yes."

"I hear they're good, really good – May and Grant Ward and FitzSimmons, and all. You're going to be busy. I'm probably not going to see you around very much."

"We'll still be stationed in New York," Phil tells him, trying not to sound desperate. "I'll be here."

"Yeah, but I'm at the Tower now, and," he blows out a breath. "I guess I just wanted to say, good luck and everything. Stay safe."

Phil nods mechanically. Fuck. Clint is obviously saying good-bye. He doesn't want to see Phil again. Phil's shown his hand, and Clint is letting him down gently. "You, too," Phil says. 

He can't leave it there, though. He stops Clint from leaving, opening his mouth just as Clint turns and starts to walk away. "Feel better, Barton, okay? Whatever else you need to do, just – feel better. You deserve to."

Clint snorts and doesn't meet his eyes, but there's a small, disbelieving smile on his face. Phil will take what he can get. "Thanks."

He leaves, then. Phil lets him go.

 

*

 

It's almost six months before he sees Clint again, and while the archer looks like he's no longer warming death's door, Phil's the one whose aching.

"Hey," Clint tells him, following him back to his office on the Bus after the mission has been concluded. "You look like shit."

Phil barks out a laugh, because he can't do anything else. "Thanks," he says, rubbing a hand over his face. He waves at Clint's combat-ready form. "You're looking better."

Clint shrugs selfconsciously, looking away. "Yeah, well, Stark's got people, you know." 

"Cooks and physiotherapists," Phil agrees, because Stark had offered him a place at the Tower, citing all the benefits that would come with it. "Yes, I know." 

"Not just physiotherapists," Clint corrects him. He blushes. "I've, er, being seeing someone."

Despite having convinced himself that he's over Clint, Phil still feels a lurch at the words. "I, uh. Good. That's... good."

Clint does that thing where he rubs the back of his neck and glances up at Phil through his eyelashes. "It's not like that," Clint tells him, embaressed. "She's a therapist."

_That_ makes Phil blink. "Oh," he says. "Well, I'm glad to hear that, then."

Clint smiles, just a hint of his usual smirk, and Phil rewinds his words in his head. He swallows a curse. "Not, ah, not that I would – " he stammers. "I just meant, I'm glad to hear that someone is – " He scowls when Clint laughs. "Shut up."

"Sorry, sorry," Clint says, still laughing, putting his hands in the air. "It's just that you're cute when you're flustered."

That is _exactly_ what Phil does not want to hear. "Thanks," he growls. "Was there anything else?" He looks pointedly towards the door.

"Hey, no, Phil," Clint says, dropping his hands. "I'm sorry, that was a shitty thing to say. I jumped the gun. I actually came here to tell you a couple of things today." He bites his lip, looking nervous. "First, I – I'm sorry."

"You said that already," Phil tells him tiredly. He just wants this conversation to be over.

"Not for that. I'm sorry for, well, for stringing you along."

Phil arches an eyebrow, and Clint blushes. "I knew that you liked me," he admits "Before. Since Vienna. I know I flirted with you over the comms and sometimes in person, but I dated women and I left it at that. I strung you along, and that was a shitty thing to do."

Phil's stomach turns to lead in his chest. He _knew_? Phil hadn't exactly been subtle, but he'd thought only Jasper had guessed. 

He's not sure what expression is showing on his face, but it's enough to make Clint look concerned. "Hey, no, don't pass out. I'm sorry. I just, I wanted you to know."

"Great," Phil rasps, feeling terrible. He blinks hard, realizing this is one emotional revelation too many this week. His eyes prickle. He's not going to break with Clint still in the room. "If you could..."

_Get out_ , he wants to say, but Clint starts to talk before he can.

"No! I mean. I didn't..." His words stumble forward. "I liked you too, okay? I liked you. I liked you a lot, more than I'd ever liked a guy before, and, well, I _like_ liked you, you understand? I'd never done that before."

Phil's too emotionally exhausted to make sense of that. "What?"

Clint runs an agitated hand through his already messy hair. "I'm fucking this up. I knew I would, I..." He pauses, looking Phil in the eye. "I liked you," he says defiantly. "I was falling in love with you. I've never felt that way about a guy before. It freaked me out. I wanted to start something with you but I wasn't sure, back then, if it was real. I didn't want to start something I couldn't finish. I didn't want to freak out and leave you high and dry. I knew that you liked me and you were important to me – fuck, Phil, you're _so_ goddamn important – and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you."

Phil blinks at him and swallows. His mouth is dry. "I don't understand."

"That night you caught me, at Pegasus, going on a date with that guy? That was me trying to figure out what was going on inside my head. Did I like guys in general? Did I just like you? I needed to know what was happening before I approached you about it, I didn't want to just spring that shit on you without some kind of preparation. I watched a lot of gay sex and then I went on a date with someone who smiled at me once in a diner. I thought..." his voice breaks off and he looks away. "I thought I'd have a chance to do things slow. I thought I'd have more time."

Things are starting to slot into place in Phil's brain. "But you didn't."

Clint nods. "Pegasus... everything... _Loki_ ," Clint spits the name, "happened and I – you – you _died_ , Phil, and I, I was a mess. A real, horrible, complete emotional mess. And then you came back and I didn't want to see you because I didn't want to drag you into that. You looked so good after Tahiti, so well recovered," his eyes sharpen at Phil's flinch, but he seems determined to get out what he wants to say. "I didn't want to spring all of this on you then, not when I still didn't know what was going on."

"And now?" Phil forces himself to ask.

"And now I feel better, and you look like shit," Clint says bluntly. "I want to help you, I want to ask you what's going on and hear all about it. I want to talk to you, but I don't want you to think that I'm just leading you on again. I've had enough of that. I like you Phil, I _like_ like you, and I want you to know that. Even if," his voice hitches slightly, "even if you don't care about me any more, like that, I want you to know." He smiles, sad but real. "I don't want to hide that again. I'm done with keeping secrets from you."

Phil can't help it – he laughs. It's a low chuckle but it still feels good. He brings his hands to his face and rubs at the pounding behind his eyes. He finally has everything he's ever wanted, and he's a mess.

"I don't know, Clint," he admits, catching the way Clint's face falls. "I still like you – fuck, I'm still in _love_ with you, I have been for years and I don't think that will ever change – but I'm a disaster, now. I just... Tahiti..." He can't help his shiver. "I have a lot of things to figure out."

"Let me help you," Clint asks. He steps closer. "I don't – I don't care how, even if it's to go away and give you space, if that's what you need, then that's fine. I just want you to know that I'm here for you. I don't expect anything, honestly I don't. I just didn't want you to think that this would be like before. I don't want it to be." He swallows. "I want it to be better."

Phil looks at him, really _looks_ at him, taking in the weight he's put on, the shadows still lurking behind his eyes. Clint's not perfect, but he's getting better. 

"I want that, too," Phil admits. 

"So," Clint tries, hesitantly. "Do you – _can_ you – tell me about it? About whatever's making you look like crap?"

Phil glances over to the papers on his desk. Nick has finally sent him his medical file – the real one, this time – and Phil has been looking through it. It's sealed access, level eight only, but fuck it. 

Clint said he's done with secrets.

Phil is, too.

"I'd like to tell you about Tahiti," Phil says slowly, "and then, if you still want to, I'd like to take you out to dinner."

"I'd like that," Clint says. 

Phil indicates the couch, and Clint sits down. Phil picks up the folder and turns back to Clint. He hesitates.

Clint smiles.

Phil takes a deep breath, smiles back, and sits down. 

"This is what happened," he says, and begins. 

 

 

The End.


End file.
